


Chimera Delta

by Foxberry



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, JM Exchange, JM Secret Santa 2014, JeanMarco Secret Santa, Kaiju, Kaiju Blue, M/M, Mecha, Mecha Au, Pac Rim AU, Pacific Rim AU, Serious Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-03-03 09:29:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2846174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxberry/pseuds/Foxberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pilots of the Chimera Delta Jean Kirschtein and Marco Bodt struggle with the happenings of last night as they encounter a new kaiju threat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wingsofbadass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingsofbadass/gifts).



> I was extremely lucky to get my lovely friend Riema for the JM Secret Santa. I literally starting chuckling on the bus when I found out I got her with the prompt Pacific Rim AU. It was perfect.
> 
> I hope you like it, Rie. <3 You had more input than you know.
> 
> Thanks to Laurel for editing for me again.

The alert rings through the bunker at 3am. Lights flash and bring Marco’s mind towards consciousness. The sound of footsteps inches with trepidation through Marco’s room as if their owner did not want to be heard. In his sleepiness, the presence of another person in his room sounds more calming than unfamiliar, and hardly suspicious in his morning grogginess.

“You… uh… getting up, Marco?” a warm and unexpected voice calls out. It sounds amused but is little more than a passing whisper.  
Marco growls sleepily in return, turning over towards the sound in amongst a swirl of cotton sheets, revealing his bare skin as it brushes across him. At the sound of a zipper, Marco’s eyes snap open to the view of Jean’s backside as he dresses. The muscles of his back ripple as he pulls his shirt over his head and, as if sensing Marco’s eyes, he clears his throat.

Jean’s not usually… he begins to think before he sits up suddenly, sheets falling down to his waist. The cold chill in the air reminds him that he fell asleep naked, prompting him to cover his lap before Jean turns.

Jean’s eyes flicker for a moment to meet Marco’s. An unsure smile twitches at the corner of Jean’s lips before his expressions changes, and he looks down and away. Not another word passes between them as Marco dresses. Jean stands in the corner with his arms crossed like a silent guard.

Last night’s clothes are strewn around the room. Marco has no time to put them away as they leave.

An uneasiness claws at him as he walks a few steps behind Jean. His hurry this morning is more than his usual enthusiasm.

Jean might be tense about waking up in a room other than his own. Perhaps last night has him on edge. Jean’s pent up frustration worked itself out in one night of impulse, leaving an empty and awkward void between them. Jean can't even look at his face. Even being close to him seems to make him uncomfortable. His muscles tense the closer Marco gets. Perhaps Jean hadn’t been as ready for that as he thought.

Embarrassment swarms over him and he can feel the heat rush through his cheeks as he greets the team. They suit him up but say nothing. Marco’s mind reels at the secret Jean and him now share. He hopes that no one else can tell, but secrets like these never last for long around here. The presence of others is welcome distraction. Jean says nothing to the team as they attach the last of his armor. Marco thinks for just a moment that he can see Jean sneaking glances at him, but shrugs it off as wishful thinking.

Heavy boots trudge in and Marco is faced with the commanding eyebrows of Marshal Smith. His back straightens itself before he can change the worried look on his face. Erwin Smith, former pilot of the Umber Valiant, misses nothing. He spent years of his life piloting a jaeger with Levi, a former black market dealer of kaiju organs. Secrets were something he could always detect.

“Are you prepared for this, Bodt?” he asks, leaning forward and crossing his arms behind his back as he looks down at Marco.

“We’re fine, sir,” Jean answers, to Marco’s surprise -- The first words he had said since this morning.

The marshal stands still for a moment, clicking his tongue as he considers them, and with a confirming nod of his head he leaves the room. Apparently Jean’s answer was satisfactory.

As they come to the cockpit, it becomes evident how hard it will be this time. Marco sighs and tries to stretch out the tension in his back. He can sense that this will not go well as he takes his place on the right and straps himself in.

ENGAGE PILOT PROTOCOL

The computerized voice rings through Chimera Delta. It prods Marco back into a focused state of mind. He glances over to Jean, but he does not look back. Jean stares straight ahead, stiff with an apparent sense of purpose, but Marco can tell he isn’t in the present with him.

“You boys ready for this today?” Petra’s voice follows through on the comms. Marco peers out at the water before them as they make the drop. It appears unnaturally calm. Marco can’t tell if it’s just his nerves forcing him to hide the wavering in his voice as best he can before he answers.

He leans across and presses the comms button. “As ready as we ever are.”

“Right. Right.” The smile in her voice makes Marco smile, too. Petra always had their back. “We’ve got a signature just a few miles from the coastal wall. Codename Skorpios.”

“Typical.” Jean mutters from his side.

“Prepare for neural handshake.” Petra calls in the distance. “Starting in fifteen seconds.”

Marco’s finger falls off the comms button. “Are you okay, Jean?”

Jean snaps his head in Marco’s direction. His eyes are open wide and his mouth agape, as if he forgot Marco could speak. A strange look clouds his face; red flushes across his cheeks. “Yep. Fine.”

“Eleven seconds.” Petra continues to countdown.

“All right…” Marco doesn’t believe him but nods nonetheless. “I’ll be in your head soon.” Marco turns forward again, saying flatly, “Whatever you’re not telling me, I’ll know.”  
Marco thinks for a moment that he heard Jean cough but there is no movement as he watches him from the corner of his eye to make sure.

NEURAL HANDSHAKE INITIATED

They enter the drift like they’re both stable and falling at once. Pulsing through his mind Marco can feel Jean’s discomfort, his embarrassment, and the struggle to remain focused as his mind darts around memories of last night. Images flicker and flash through their minds like the hundred times before, filling both their minds as they meet and meld together.

Their childhood memories mix. Scenes Marco has seen a hundred times before. There’s a kitchen with a wooden table. A large omelette steams in front of little Jean’s hands, reaching out for cutlery as giggling tumbles out of him. The sky and ground spin as little Marco rolls down a hill of freshly cut grass. He sits up and brushes the grass off corduroy pants and his mother’s arms embrace him from behind.

The sound of wood smacking against each other comes through next. Marco’s view of Jean floats into view. His cocky smile and lean of his left leg shows how sure he is that his left-handedness will give him an advantage in their first sparring session. His tank is soaked in sweat, stains developing under his arms and at the neck. Marco stifles a laugh. The memory is too vivid for him and he reminds himself that the drift is silence. Anything he says might mess with the neural handshake.

Thwack, thwack, thwack. One strike follows another. Jean’s shoulders glisten under the fluorescent lighting. They grunt at each other as they train. This is first of many training sessions to come. The image flickers and swirls, fast forwarding and seeming to spin. Now the image fades to focus on Marco’s abs, as he stands a shirtless opponent. It is an extraordinarily long look before suddenly Marco flies out of view and the ceiling takes his place. Wind is pushed out of his lungs. Marco’s face looms over with an expression somewhere between concern and triumph. He throws his weapon over his shoulder and offers Jean a hand.

The view switches almost instantly to one of a huffing Marco above Jean, a hand grasping at Jean’s shoulder as he gears up for another thrust.  
“Jean!” Marco calls out, trying to snap Jean’s mind back into really. The visions quickly change back and the scenes end.

RIGHT HEMISPHERE CALIBRATING

Marco stretches out his arms as he always does. The alignment takes mere moments. Jean, to his left, follows a moment after.

LEFT HEMISPHERE CALIBRATING

In perfect sync, they move together,and Chimera Delta moves with them. Not much more than a junk project by Ymir, it held its own within the new class of jaeger and, more importantly, stood against the kaiju. Chimera Delta was built as an amalgamation of three decommissioned jaegers in a time where material supply was low. Despite the haphazard way it was put together, it moved like a dream.

CALIBRATION COMPLETED

“You want to tell me why you’re so nervous?” Marco asked among the thuds of the steps they took in unison. The ocean waves gave way before them as they soldered forth.

Jean answers quicker than he expects. His voice is flat, though Marco can feel the lie. “New kaiju. New fight. They’re calling this one Skorpios. It’s pretty evident what level of shit we’re dealing with this time.”

Marco nods and hums in thought. Jean no doubt sees and hears everything that he can. Regardless, he feels it necessary to ask what has been plaguing him since the morning. “We’re okay, though?”

“Let’s not do this now. I’m not having Petra hear this.”

Petra’s lilting voice chimes in right on time as always. “Having a lover’s spat?”

“No, Petra!” Jean protests, stabbing at the comms button and fueling his frustration into his steps.

She laughs in their ears. Her voice crackles in the headset as they make their way further out to sea. “It sure sounds like it from here. I don’t even need to hear you two to know something’s going on.” She stops speaking for a moment to take a deep breath. “Did something happen?” The smirk grows in her voice. They can both hear it. “Finally?”

Jean and Marco exchange a look. Marco chooses to be the one to speak this time. “He’s bad enough as it is. I need him present, Petra.”

There are a few seconds of silence before she responds, serious this time. “You’re coming up on the signature now.”

It’s hard to mistake the kaiju as they approach. Beneath the waves, a bright blue glow marks its location in the dark. It’s unlike anything Marco or Jean have seen before. They’ve seen kaiju blue before. They had seen the way that kaiju glowed in their eyes, their tongues, their gills, and in fissures across their body, but this is something else. From what Marco can see, its entire arthropodic body is glowing a brilliant blue.

Water surges up from the depths as they near the glow. Two gigantic claws rise, water dripping and falling from them as they reach up, and open as if they they want to pierce the sky as well. With eight legs it thrusts itself forward directly towards them, claws outstretched.

“We got this,” Jean affirms, more to himself than to Marco. He huffs as he leans into a punch and sends Delta’s left arm into Skorpios’ beady left eye. The kkaiju reels back for a moment but it insists in its assault. Its front two legs scrape into the jaeger’s legs as it pushes itself upwards. Claws dart at the cockpit. Marco joins the fray, punching under the right claw, forcing it upwards. The claw scrapes along the side of the jaeger, shaking the entire unit. Sparks fly from the electrical panel at the impact.

Jean misses the left claw as it grabs for their left leg. It pierces through the jaeger as it clamps down like their armor was nothing more than aluminum sheeting. Computer screens fill their view with red text as the alarms sound.  
“It’s broken the lines!” Marco yells.

Jean nods and meets Marco’s gaze, confident and determined, “I’ve got this.”

Delta’s left arm slams into the claw and dislodges its grasp. In swift succession, its right claw strikes the cockpit again. Red text continues to flash and in all the shaking, Marco manages to grasp the claw with Delta’s right hand.  
“You’ve got to grab the other one!” Marco screams through his huffing as he fights with the kaiju’s resistance. It pulls back and thrashes in the water.

Jean follows Marco’s orders and shoves his arm after the kaiju. In three quick strikes it knocks the arm aside. Delta struggles to stay upright and sways, leaving Marco struggling to maintain the grip on Skorpios. He grunts in his frustration.

“Just a second!” Jean yells in response. “I almost --” The arm dives for the other claw and grabs it with its large metal fist. “Got it!”

The kaiju roars. It’s a loud, piercing screech from deep within that segmental body. The water of the ocean below them rushes out of the way as the two giants come clashing together. As Jean and Marco stare out of their visor, the glow of the kaiju seems so bright it that it blinds in the darkness.

Marco asks in a desperate rasp, “Can you charge the plasma cannon?”

Jean tries to move his arm, but fails. “No. Fuck!”

Marco grunts one more time as he struggles. His eyes close as he grasps hold as tightly as he can manage, trying to get the plasma cannon to charge. If only they could knock the claws away, Marco could fire up his cannon. If there was one thing the Delta lacked, it was weaponry. Nothing seems more important than fighting back right now. Marco grunts again and he feels Jean slipping away from him.

“Jean?” He turns to see Jean staring ahead. His eyes are wide, but he’s not with Marco anymore. He can feel it. As the images flash through his mind while he’s fighting to maintain a hold of the creature looming over them, he can see it too. “Now’s not the time -- Fuck!”

LEFT HEMISPHERE OUT OF ALIGNMENT

The cabin is rocked by a large impact. Marco leans toward to keep the Delta upright as it begins to fall back. Both claws still within their jaeger’s grasp, Marco stares out before him, confused by the blow. There’s only two arms. The legs are clawing away Delta’s armor at the legs. Marco’s answer rises up in front of him, undulating in the sky like a snake. The kaiju has a spiked tail and, worst of all, despite the grip they had, it could reach them.

Marco closes his eyes as it hits for a second time. It cracks the glass. Splintered pieces fall inside and shake into the wiring. The tail slides across the screen, leaving a large scratch in its wake. It’s trying to get them, Marco concludes.  
Jean’s distraction begins to blur Marco’s vision. He can see his own desperate gasping into the pillow, Jean’s glance down as he undresses, and he feels their first long, exploratory kiss. The sound of last night’s moans echo through his head as he tries to hold onto reality while Jean remains in the drift trying to escape it. Marco’s world seems to be falling apart as the kaiju roars again.

“Jean. Stay with me.” Marco calls out, unable to look away from the tail raising for a third strike. “I can’t have you doing this right now.”

The kaiju thrashes, clawing at the legs. It tears out the wires and part of the oxygen supply. Red letters scream in his view what Marco already knows: they don’t have long.

“Don’t chase the rabbit. Don’t run from this,” he screams, trying to block the images from his mind while calling Jean back out again. He could not do this alone. “I need you here, dammit.”

Petra’s voice calls out like an angel from the heavens. “What’s going on out there? Jean’s out of alignment.”

“Jean’s chasing.” Marco barks back. He has no time to give specifics. The jaeger’s left arm begins to slip from the kaiju’s claw.

“Oh shit.” She takes a deep breath. Her voice turns to one of concern, helpful but stern in his ear, and it keeps him grounded. “Have you got an eye on the kaiju?”

“We’re holding it, but it won’t be for long.”

“Do you need Harlequin?”

“No, I’ve got this. We’ve got this.” Marco darts a worried glance at Jean, who is still not responding.

“I can have Springer and Braus suiting up now. Are you sure?”

Marco licks his lips. He wasn’t sure, but they could do this. “I’m sure.”

“I’m here if you need me.” The comms click. She would be watching them intently now, calling upon the Harlequin Menace crew regardless of what he said. She was always predictable like that.

Skorpios screeches again, climbing up Delta with its claws digging into its armor. Its left claw falls from its prison and pulls back instantly into striking position. It leans forward almost triumphantly, fully poised to strike.

Marco's eyes begin to tear up as he faces the glowing blue giant. For a moment, he swears its beady eyes can see him shaking. Whether it is in fear or the physical struggle, he does not know. Jean is already lost, and he will be next.

There is a gut-wrenching sound when the spike pierces the cockpit. To Marco it seems like the sound metal would make if it could scream. A mixture of pity and fear seems to grow in his stomach as the spike edges closer, barely a foot above him.  
"Jean!" he cries, the sound garbled and unearthly. There's a blur of glowing blue and a searing pain claws down his neck as it eats through his suit. It tickles and bites at his shoulder as it drips down. The vision in his right eye is a distorted mess.

The shriek of agony he emits sounds foreign. The voice seems to have come from outside of him as his breathing labours. A dry retch shudders through him as he gasps for air and the oxygen supply continues to dwindle.

Eyelids close, eyes hiding away from screens of flashing red and yellow. Warnings sound in the background. It sounds far away as if muffled in the distance. Petra’s voice calls out in his ear, but it doesn’t reach him.

RIGHT HEMISPHERE OUT OF ALIGNMENT

The drift feels like a soft landing, warm and familiar, where he can find Jean’s face with barely a whisper of a thought. He finds him then, tossing in the sheets of a fond memory. He watches as Jean nudges his way between memory Marco’s arms as he stands above them both. Marco remembers this. He slips into the memory with Jean, draping his arm over him and pulling him close. His neck feels soft as he presses his lips against the nape. He smells of sandalwood and cedar. The peacefulness of it all is snuffed out as his body convulses, muscles twisting at the pain, and he hears his own scream again.

“Marco!” He swears he hears the voice beside him, but in this moment his world extends very little around him. “Shit!” it continues.  
There’s a loud crunch and the jaeger shakes once again. Marco squints up before him, sight only possible through the left side of his visor. The spike disappears suddenly. Kaiju blue drips from the gaping hole where it forced its way in. Grunting and surprising himself, Marco still manages to hold onto the right claw. The tail raises up once more to the sky.

“Petra!” Jean’s voice shouts abruptly. “Marco’s injured.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Marco sees him adjust himself. His left arm is outreached and as Marco looks out into the distance, he chuckles, relieved, as he realises Jean has the creature’s tail in his grasp.  
“You’re back,” Petra responds to him, as surprised as Marco felt. He stopped chasing. The comms click as she no doubt rushes to inform the Marshal.

“Yeah…. I’m back,” Jean whispers. He already sounds defeated. Whether by the creature or his own guilt, Marco cannot tell.

“Jean?” Marco’s voice sounds weaker than he thought it would. He struggles to say another word before Jean interrupts him.

“Are you okay?” Jean looks over at him, eyebrows furrowed with worry. Marco can see the fear in his eyes. “Shit. I fucked up. I --”  
Marco interrupts, pulling his arm back into a locking position. “You hold. I shoot.”

The plasma cannon lights and spins as it charges. The kaiju’s left claw slams against the left arm but its raised position blocks its strike. It screeches as it slides down the side of the jaeger, deflected. The right darts back at the cockpit, but despite every slam, Marco holds his ground.

“Marco…” Jean begins.

“Just hold it steady.”

It’s bright when it hits. Glowing blue meets blinding white as the plasma beam connects and dissects the kaiju tail. Its roar cries out in defiance. Its legs still claw at the jaeger’s lower half. For a moment, they look at each other. The neural connection, though not perfect, begins to piece itself together. Like a firm embrace, it clicks back into place.

Jean winds up for the first hit. Frustration fuels his punch this time as he cracks Skorpios’ outer shell. Marco follows in pursuit, aiming for the crack. The kaiju screeches once again. Blue seeps from the open wound and the goo flies through the air like small shooting stars when Jean hits for a second and a third time. Marco pulls back his arm again for one more plasma cannon blast.  
“One more should do it,” Marco yells through gritted teeth. It would be over soon.  
The plasma cannon charges again, its hum a welcome relief between Marco’s struggling breaths.

“I’ll hold it off,” Jean assures between a flurry of punches, raising the jaeger arm as quickly as the old rustbucket was able. “Just hold on a little longer, Marco.”

Chimera Delta was cumbersome, made of old and used parts, and more likely to fall apart at the heavily soldered seams, but when they had a goal and they worked together, she got the job done. They all jolt as the plasma cannon unleashes its next volley. The beam slices through the creature, right through the head. Jean hits it again, sending it careening backwards. Water rushes upwards like it is trying to lay claim to the kaiju as it falls down, defeated.

Marco collapses in his suit as the creature drifts down, its glow fading into the black of the water below. He sighs, relieved. His eyes close and a black void takes him as the pain engulfs him again.

“Marco!” A clatter of metal comes from his left, and, as Marco slowly wakes and opens his eyes, he realises Jean is leaning over him, sans suit. “Marco,” he repeats. A warm hand cups Marco’s cheek as he feels the grating of the floor against his bare back. Jean must have removed his suit.

“You’re really lucky.” Jean smiles, though it looks more for Marco’s benefit. He looks as tired as Marco feels.

A thumb strokes over Marco’s right eyebrow. It’s a gentle touch but it stings and Marco flinches. “Oh, sorry.” Jean’s hand retreats back to holding Marco’s face. “It just missed your eye. You can see with it, right?”  
“Yeah,” Marco coughs and splutters as he tries to laugh, “How is it?”

Jean assesses him, and Marco watches his face closely.  
“There’s a bit of muscle damage along your right shoulder. Nothing too bad but they won’t know until they see it.” He pauses for a moment and smiles reassuringly. “It looks fine to me.” He tilts his head as he considers something with a small laugh and adds quietly, to himself, “I’d still do you.”

Marco raises his eyebrows, twinging a muscle in his right one but he ignores it. “Oh?”

Realising his slip, Jean simply stares. His face changes in color as the horror sets in. Marco simply chuckles at him, reaching up to pull Jean down to his face. Their lips meet for a moment before Marco sinks his fingers into Jean’s hair, moving back a little to stare straight into his eyes. “Good.” He takes a passing glance down to his right shoulder. It had blistered down to his forearm. The pain still seared away as if the kaiju blue was still there. He huffs, almost a little disappointed, “Just not right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this and want to share it on Tumblr, you can find the Tumblr post [here](https://foxberryblue.tumblr.com/post/136872851269/chimera-delta-pacific-rim-au-for-jm-exchange).
> 
> I would love to hear your feedback here or you can also find me on [Tumblr](https://foxberryblue.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](http://twitter.com/foxberryblue) or on my writing only blog [Foxberry Writes](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/).


	2. The Days That Follow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been promising a part two to this fic for a very long time now. I finally got around to do it for Rie's birthday.
> 
> Happy Birthday! I hope you enjoy this AU a second time around.
> 
> (I literally threw this together last minute. Apologies for any typos or complete failing in grammar.)

DAY ONE

The base groans under the pressure of the storm, metal creaking and electronics flashing like the world was going to end. Heavy rain echos through the metal catacombs of the hangar. Voices ring through the corridors, boots clang against iron, and sirens wail when the large doors finally close. Amongst all the chaos Jean sits quietly in the infirmary, unconcerned about anything around him, his world focussed solely on the man whose hand lies softly in his.

Marco’s breath is slow and calm compared to Jean’s. His heart spikes and jolts him awake at every twitch in Marco’s sleep, hoping for the next moments he might speak to him. The doctors had made no promises. Their words had hung empty in the air. They knew Marco would wake, but when is a matter of patience. Jean isn’t sure that he has it in him after their bout in Chimera Delta.

She had kept them safe well enough. A solid metal cocoon that protected them both, though more importantly Marco, lying injured on the floor, wrapped in Jean’s jacket, Kaiju blue fleshly wiped off his wounds. For all the water they were surrounded by, none was within reach to clean the toxin away and no one knew how much of it had seeped into his skin.

Jean’s knees ached even now from his vigil as he had awaited their rescue. Petra’s voice calling through the comms and fretting behind steady words of sympathy, until the blinding lights of the rescue helicopter found them.

The steady beep of the heart monitor reminds Jean that all their trouble is over, for now. His hand squeezes Marco’s, thumb rubbing across the back of his palm, hoping to feel his fingers squeeze back. They feel warm but limp in his hand, a quiet strength still resting in them, as steady as the rising and falling Marco’s chest.

“How’s he doing?” A deep voice calls from behind him. Footsteps approach on the laminate flooring like soft whispers. Commander Smith walked like a man with purpose, but there was no purpose here. His hands clasp before him, signalling his silence.

Jean’s mouth falls open at first, finding nothing and everything to say. Thinking better of divulging every worry in his mind, he presses his lips together and eyes the vital signs of the monitor above Marco’s head. “He’s better. No idea when he’ll wake up though.”

When Jean turns back to the Marshall, he finds him nodding, humming lowly in acknowledgement. “It may be days before we know. Weeks before he is fit enough to pilot a Jaeger, if at all.” Not a flicker of doubt or worry passes across his face. Jean feels almost jealous of his resolve, completely removed from attachment to his people so he can use them like pawns.

The Marshall’s attention quickly fades from Marco and Jean at the call of a woman running past. Her hair thrown up into a messy bun, she looks barely composed when she runs by yelling for the Marshall to follow her. He nods, quietly, with nothing more to say and leaves with a curt turn and a forced, tight-lipped smile.

In the chaos of the battering of metal and the sounds of hurried steps, Jean resolves to stay. He leans across the bed and rests his head by Marco’s side. For every sound that surrounds them in the flurry, he wishes to only hear the constant beep of Marco’s vital signs.  Exhausted from their adventure and finally giving way to the exhaustion creeping up his back, he falls asleep by Marco’s side, determined not to leave.

 

DAY THREE 

Another two days pass before Petra convinces Jean to leave the infirmary for more than thirty minutes. It’s a struggle to get him to his feet and to bring his hand from Marco’s, but he relents finally at the growl of his stomach and the growing discomfort of his own body odor. She manages to coerce him with a smile and freshly baked batch of brownies. Despite the storm tearing off part of the hangar, she insists the ovens still work.

Food tastes foreign to him when he starts eating. Delicate with every bite, solid food feels larger than he can swallow, heavier than it ever has been, but it settles the aching in his stomach. Through he’s slow at first, he gains his strength again in time, taking moments to savour the chocolate in Petra’s brownies though he can barely make it through one.

His heartbeat still jolts at the sudden sounds of his peers and with every moment he sits eating his mind turns to Marco, wondering when he will wake to eat again. Two days he has slept, moving only in the deepest of sleep, barely a mumble passing his lips in whatever dream passes through his mind. Jean wonders what those dreams look like and whether he may see in Marco’s mind again.

Strength restored after days of forcing himself awake and collapsing into sleep, losing track of days and time, Jean makes his way to the showers. Petra supports him on the way, her hands guiding him through the corridors that Jean feels like he’s forgotten. The lights are brighter than he remembers and sting his eyes with their leering. He wonders how he managed to cope under the infirmary lights for so long.

“I’m just going to stand outside, okay?” Petra reminds Jean with a sing-song tone to her voice. Though she sounds happy, she can never hide the worry in her voice, even through comms. In person she appears all the more concerned with lines forming on her forehead.

Jean nods, a little more than he needs to, feeling the sleepiness of a good meal catching up to him. He shrugs it off and disappears into the first stall he finds empty. The showers are wide enough to fit two people. He knows from the stolen kisses and secret rendezvouses after long training days. Both of them taking turns to press each other up against the stalls and washing the shampoo out of their hair and their eyes, often more distracted by the placement of their hands than the suds on their bodies.

The taps squeak when he turns them. The pipe of the bathrooms groan as yet another shower springs to life. The water stutters out from the showerhead, first hot then cool, before it stabilises to something tolerable. Jean immediately stands under it and closes his eyes. He begins to lather himself with a soap Petra had placed in his hand, running it over the bruises and the marks from his run in with Skorpios. When the images flash through his mind he falters and lets the water run down his face, trailing its way down his cheeks, his neck, his chest.

In the cloud of steam, warm and washed, he presses his hands against the marble wall and stares at the floor. Water rushes through his hair, coursing down his back, drumming on the back of his head, and streaming across his eyes. He lets his tears flow with it.

 

DAY FIVE

Marco makes his first sound after five days. Where the doctors swear it means nothing has changed, Jean finds himself glued to the seat by his bed, hand firmly grasping onto Marco’s. His vigils begin again. Daylight doesn't seem to filter into this darker part of the hangar, despite the clash and bang and roar of Jaegers taking off to take down a new threat. Jean ignores them all.

Doctors come and go, making visits to check on Marco in between injured pilots and trainees. Despite their attention and Jean’s continued vigil, Marco shows no sign of waking. His dreams become more intense, prompting tossing and turning in the night. For as much as Marco remains asleep, Jean holds tighter to the hope that he will awaken soon.

“What are you dreaming about?” Jean asks and strokes Marco’s hair back. There’s something calming for Jean in the gesture. The soft touch of Marco’s hair, the way it relents beneath his fingers, and the gentle look that remains on Marco’s face make his heart melt just that little bit more.

He stays there again, all through the night, despite the sirens and the emergencies ,he stays. No soul bothers him in his vigil. They leave flowers and food and bottles of water. Cards begin to pile up, folded on a side table with nowhere else to go. The room becomes brighter with well wishes and Jean has to ask himself how a dingy room of metal and plastic can become so bright. He answers it aloud when no one else is there, “Marco.”

Marco’s grip is stronger now. His fingers respond to the lightest touch, curling more than the limp touch it has been for the last few days. There’s hope in that touch, Jean tells himself. There’s always hope where Marco’s concerned.

He brings Marco’s hand to his lips. The skin there is warped, damaged by exposure to kaiju blue, but he’s not deterred. The new creases there, the dips and the lines, are nothing more than stories carved into skin. This story Jean reads down Marco's arm as he brings Marco’s hands closer to his face is one they share, but only Marco holds the tale.

Despite the scarring that marks from his cheek to his wrist, Marco’s skin feels no different when Jean kisses his hand. It's still just as warm and soft as Jean had come to know. The calluses under their fingers meeting and rubbing in a way that sparked memories almost as vivid as entering the drift. Their memories have mixed and blurred for so long that they had found a home in each other’s minds. Shared memories taking on new meaning. Stories they no longer need to tell. Jean wonders how many secrets Marco still has, how much more of him he has yet to know.

Overwhelmed by the sound of Marco’s sigh, another breath that reminds Jean he’s still there waiting to wake, Jean’s face contorts. He presses Marco’s hand to his lips, holding it there as the tears well in his eyes. He wishes in small kisses breathed into scars, hoping they carry their way to Marco and bring him back to him.

When the first of the tears begins to fall, meeting his lips on the back of Marco’s hand, he feels a gentle tug away from him. Marco’s fingers curl in into a fist and draw away from his hand by an inch.

Looking up in his surprise, eyes blurry, he finds Marco’s eyes staring blearily his way. It takes all his self control to not burst from his seat to hold him close. Instead he quietly greets Marco with a soft “Hey. Missed you” between sobs.

 

DAY SIX

Marco insists on standing despite doctor’s orders and everyone else’s better judgements. He takes to his feet as soon as they leave the room. His resistance to their help causes the medical staff worry, but Marco smiles through it all, as charming as ever, promising everything will be fine.

His smiles are the brightest for Jean. They show in between doctor visits and when the backs of visitors are turned. Jean quite put his finger on it but something there has changed. Perhaps it’s the twinkle in his eye or the determination to ignore anything that is good for his health now that he can move.

“You’re going collapse if you keep pushing yourself,” Jean warns through gritted teeth to stop himself smiling. It’s barely been 24 hours and his cheeks already hurt from the relief of it all. Marco’s able to sit and stand and still be stubborn enough to disobey orders. He hasn’t forgotten, in amongst it all, to smile. Not for one second. Jean didn’t know what it meant to cry from relief until now.

He hides those moments of weakness when he finds himself in the shower alone. Thanking whatever luck Marco stumbled upon to make his way through their battle together and Marco’s battle that followed. Every glance at the scars on his arm reminds Jean of his failings, how he lost himself and chased the rabbit. His gut ties itself into knots every time Marco winces and finds yet another way he can’t move his arm.

Marco’s laugh draws him from the sea of his regrets. “You’ll catch me though.” He winks, passing over another casual line as flirtation. Jean wonders whether he’s hiding more than what he can see. He suspects somewhere deep in Marco’s chests he blames him for his suffering. There’s no chance it would have happened without his own failings, over something so trivial, so stupid.

Yet despite every worried look on Jean’s face, Marco smiles, even with the scar on his right cheek, and reaches out with his scarred hand. He cups Jean’s face and whispers, “It’s fine.” Every sound comprising it mixes together with Jean’s confusion and he wonders how he can ever be forgiven for failing when he was needed most.

Jean’s voice catches in his throat. His list of apologies jumbled up in his head fell away at the look in Marco’s eyes. “I let you down.” Marco’s face doesn’t change. The same trusting expression remains and Jean has to bite his lip not to cry, tears stinging his eyes. Even in the hospital room, alone, he feels judged by every person who has stepped in to see Marco lying in that bed. 

Marco snaps him out of his doubts with a needy kiss, pulling his face closer, hands digging into Jean’s hair. His shoulders relax at the way Marco makes him forget with just the touch of his tongue and a nip of his teeth. Reluctantly Jean stops pressing back against Marco when he’s pulled away. “Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

The surge in Jean’s chest is not one he can ignore this time. He pulls Marco forward with a grunt, wrapping his arms about Marco’s shoulder with a firm grasp, as if afraid to let him go. He buries his face into Marco’s neck, laying kisses as a form of worship. Silently he mouths praises against his skin, and when he finally speaks, all he can say is, “I love you.”

 

  
DAY NINE

Jean bites his lip and grits his teeth with every blow he makes. The repetitive thwacks of their wooden staffs fill the training room, echoing off the metal walls and dampening the sounds of grunts and huffs as they fight against one another. Marco insists on training now that his strength is returning. A few days on his feet and he is convinced he can fight again, even with the limitation and pain of his right arm. Jean doesn't have a single moment that he doesn't dread the next hit.

Though slower than in their previous duels, Marco still manages to hold himself well. Covered in a light sheen of sweat, he still stands proud in only his shorts. Jean might find it distracting if not for his scars that worked their way from his neck, across his chest, and down his arm. The image frightens Jean, knowing that he will never forget the role he played, but the way Marco persists in gaining full movement in his arm again makes Jean smile.

“You’re going easy on me!” Marco yells through huffs, determined to take Jean down and prove he’s still capable. He spins the staff in his left hand and chucks it to his right. When it hits his palm with a slap, he winces momentarily before shrugging it off and tightening his hold. He is nothing but determined.

Jean cocks his head to the side, stretching one side of his neck and following with the other. He narrows his eyes at Marco’s provocation. “You’re injured and you’re lucky we’re even doing this.” The end of his staff hits the ground with all the power of his fist, emphasising the point Jean had repeatedly tried to make. “If they find us…”

Laughter rings from Marco’s chest. He shakes his head, dismissing away Jean’s concerns, stepping closer from foot to foot like Jean was his prey. “Then they can fight me.” He lunges forward with his staff, aiming for Jean’s bare chest. Another thwack follows when Jean easily defends himself, jumping back to protect himself.

“Nice try,” he teases with a smirk. He stands ready this time, staff held in both hands, ready and prepared for whatever Marco wants to try next. “If you overwork that arm, it’ll do more damage than good.” He circles around Marco, step after step, focussing on the footwork that he hopes will take Marco down gently. The last thing he wants is to add more injury to what’s already there.

Jean takes his turn to take a jab at Marco, aiming for his ankles with a swipe. If he knocks him down, Jean can win and they can call it a day. But Jean misses. He’s simply not quick enough. Marco jumps up with a grunt, smacking Jean’s staff down and taking another swipe at Jean before his feet hit the ground again. He still moves with relative ease but his strikes are still off the mark, missing once again.

Grunting further, Marco tries again and again to bypass Jean’s defences. He fails at every attempt and finally, to Jean’s relief, surrenders. “Guess you’re right. I better not push it.” He punches Jean lightly in the shoulder. “Dinner?”

Jean can’t refuse an offer like that, especially after Marco has already admitted defeat. Chuckling, he draws Marco close with an arm around his waist, feeling the clammy way Marco’s sweat slicked skin sticks with his. Things, Jean reflects, are feeling more normal again.  


 

DAY TWELVE

“Would you still do me?” Marco asks with a wink and a wiggle, chuckling as he throws himself onto his bed. He lies there in a mess of cotton sheets and gestures to his arm. “You said you would.” With another laugh he hides himself under his sheets and stares impatiently at Jean.

Sighing, Jean approaches and shakes his head. “You heard the doctor. No rigorous activity for the first few weeks.” He makes his way to the bed, taking a seat by Marco’s knees, and reaches out for Marco’s scarred hand. “Your arm’s still in recovery. You need to take it easy.”

Marco leans up and presses himself against Jean, teasing with hums and nips and sucks at his lips. “Take me easy then.” His hand rubs up Jean’s chest and down his back, drawing him closer with a tug at his waist. Every movement they make together feels awkward with Marco’s arm.

Chuckling again, Marco teases, pulling Jean towards him, on top of him with his stronger arm. Jean leans in, amused by the sudden enthusiasm, and falls on top of Marco’s chest with snicker. “Come on… me,” Marco suggests wriggling underneath Jean, arm still holding onto him, refusing to let go.

“I think those painkillers are getting to --” Jean begins but feels Marco rub himself up against him, already half-hard. He relents, just briefly to test the waters, missing the way they were so close, so intimate. He leans against Marco’s chest, pressing his lips against Marco’s neck and burying himself there as Marco rolls his hips up against him.

Jean struggles to form words, bucking his hips in time. He laughs at his own weakness, being drawn into this tangled mess of theirs with barely a kiss and a tug. “You planned this,” he growls into Marco’s ear and earns a huff of a laugh in his.

Rolling his hips slower, deliberately, pressing his erection up in search of Jean’s, he admits, “Yeah, just a little.” He lets his lips fall open with a silent moan, still smiling and breathing as much of Jean in as he can manage. His lips work their way down Jean’s neck, taking his frustrations out on him, sucking and nipping at his skin between nervous giggles. “Do you mind?”

Jean buries his face in Marco’s hair and tugs him closer, wanting to touch as much as Marco with as much of him as he can. He shudders at another roll of Marco’s hips and awkwardly bucks his own back, forcing a shaking moan out from his chest. “Not… at… all,” he manages though laboured pants, moving faster against Marco, happy for any sense of friction.

They rut against each other, hands grabbing for bare skin, for leverage, pressing themselves together wherever their bodies can meet. Marco’s arm becomes forgotten in their own storm they create, too lost in the sound of moans and gasps to remember the weeks before. There’s no sense of pain or loss or blame, and as they hit their peak, they hold each other close to ride out the wave.

Jean collapses to Marco’s chest and sighs in his defeat. As much as he tries, he gives in every single time to Marco’s desires, and finds himself happy for it. He buries his face in Marco’s chest and mumbles under his breath, “I hope your arm hurts in the morning.”

As their heart rates slow and the room comes into focus again, Marco snickers and wraps his scarred arm around him. He leans close to Jean’s ear and whispers the only thing Jean wants to hear, “I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this and want to share it on Tumblr, you can find the Tumblr post [here](https://foxberryblue.tumblr.com/post/143693215767/chimera-delta-chapter-2).
> 
> I would love to hear your feedback here or you can also find me on [Tumblr](https://foxberryblue.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](http://twitter.com/foxberryblue) or on my writing only blog [Foxberry Writes](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/).


	3. Another Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt this needed a fitting conclusion and what better day to post this than Marco's birthday!

The sun rises over the horizon and brightens the water when its buttery yellow melts over the ocean. The light washes over the waves, lazily lapping against the edge of the base, and reflects up into Marco’s eyes staring out at the seemingly endless expanse before him. He leans against the railing, resting his good hand across the bars while the other does its awkward best to do the same.

Raking one hand through his hair, Marco closes his eyes to appreciate the crisp change in the air rushing across the ocean. The seasons are changing, as much as anything else around the base, as much as he was. Weeks had passed in recovery. Promises and praises from doctors making his week where he used to be making a difference. It feels so restrictive to stay in the base all day, even more so with an arm that can’t quite work right.

He takes the moment in the early hours of the morning as a reprieve from the hours of training he has planned today. Each session has become a series of frustrating dances with Jean. Marco’s steps aren’t quite the same as they used to be, his footing too unsure to make the next move, but he insists on surging ahead anyway whenever they spar. He needs to feel like he can hold his own, pretending his arm is no more a hindrance than resistance training.

Kaiju blue has left its mark in twisted ridges in the skin, slithering down his arm in grooves and gouges, scarring from his cheek to his wrist. His skin looks like melted wax in places, even shiny, as if his arm may melt again if he held a flame to it. It’s not quite his arm anymore but he suspect it will be his once again, once he gets a feel for it.

“You ready, Marco?” Jean asks from behind him with an air of concern. Jean had taken it upon himself to carry the burden of Marco’s recovery on his shoulders. Marco suspects the guilt has gotten to him, regardless of how many times Marco has tried to insist that he’s fine.

Marco faces Jean with a weary smile, not as ready as he hoped, but it brightens when Jean comes into sight. He’s dressed in training gear already, grey tank pulled tight against his chest and cropped pants seeming to wrap around his thighs like a second skin. Somehow Marco finds his voice, "Guess so." He pats his own pants, feeling rather exposed beneath Jean's gaze, next adjusting the collar of his t-shirt.

Following Jean down the metal corridors feels ominous this time. Their footsteps echo off the walls in off-beat rhythms, and despite how many steps Marco takes, he cannot keep up with Jean's pace. Something is off, but Marco doesn't know what to say about it. He immediately feels hopeless, like his own failings last time led them to where they are now, still struggling to get back to what they were. It seems like it's all a few steps out of Marco's reach.

Just as Jean reaches the corridor to the training room, he takes a turn in the wrong direction. Marco blinks, confused but curious, and pushes himself to keep up with whatever Jean thinks he's doing. "Where are we going?" he asks, having to yell past the banging of steel from a nearby construction room.

"We're going to try something different today," Jean calls back, still withholding information as he is so good at doing. It only makes Marco worry more. He's taken so much of this situation upon himself that Marco can see it beginning to wear him down. All Marco ever wanted was to get back into the iron saddle and do what they do best, together.

Marco sprints forward, grabbing onto Jean's shoulder to keep himself up to speed. "What do you mean?" They pass through the back corridors of the hangar, passing people covered in grease and sweat. The heat and smell of smelted metal hangs thick in the air. Marco can't help but feel they've gotten lost.

Jean stumbles when someone runs into him from the right and nudges their elbow into his side. He groans and nudges back, but misses as the woman Marco recognises in the dim light laughs at him. "You two ready to get all up in her?" Ymir asks with the dirtiest grin Marco thinks he might have seen from one of his colleagues. He shouldn't expect anything different from their dedicated mechanic.

Taking a deep breath, Jean rolls his eyes and throws his head back in a laugh. "You do know we're gay?" His eyes briefly glance Marco's way before raising an eyebrow at Ymir. These two never seem to be able to stop themselves from teasing each other. Marco might almost consider it flirting if it didn't get so competitive and vile all the time.

She scoffs in his face and darts ahead, making a show to point at them both. "For each other, yeah. That's pretty obvious." With her hair up in a messy bun, strands laying across her grease-covered face, she looks positively pleased with herself in her black tank and loosely fitted overalls. Marco wonders how it manages to stay up with how much she dances around in it, with only one strap holding it over her shoulders.

Making their way through the corridors, they come to the large repair hangar. The roof opens up wide, revealing metres upon metres of empty space above them, reminding Marco how small he truly is. Engines whirr in the great expanse as flashes of light pulsate through the clamour of sound. As they walk out, Marco realises how far above ground they are. Beneath them lays certain death if he dares to trip and find himself over one of the railings.

Marco has never felt at home here amongst the repairs. It's never been a place he could feel comfortable, but Jean never seems to mind. Like Ymir, he finds a fascination in all things engineering. Though unlike Ymir, he didn't feel the need to make a show of that fact. His wonder blooms on his face when he peers up, following Ymir's incoherent yelling and gesturing, and finds Chimera Delta standing proud and somewhat beaten before them.

"What's this?!" Marco yells over the drum of the machinery. "Why are we here?" Dumbfounded, he stares up at their jaeger. She looks battered and scarred, much like Marco's arm, but she stands just as proud as she had before. The damage from their last bout has been patched with more metal, jagged edges smoothed with heat and hammer. She almost looks like herself again and remains, Marco thinks affectionately, perhaps the only jaeger still functioning to be made of unwanted junk.

Ymir slinks her arm around his shoulder and pulls him down by the neck. "This is several months of hard work. Do you have any idea how hard it is to repair that kind of damage?" She points up at her handiwork, paying special attention to the place where Scorpios had cut away with its pincers and where its tail had pierced through into the cockpit. "You're both going to give her a whirl."

Marco's head snaps in Jean's direction. He deliberately avoids looking back at Marco's confused expression, instead choosing to gaze up at Delta with a frown. "It's been a while." Jean scratches at his hairline and shrugs his shoulders. His eyes turn back with a look Marco thinks he saw when Jean had found him, almost unconscious and covered in kaiju blue. "Petra thought we should check her out. Remember what we... were... Maybe trying drifting again."

Ymir relaxes her grip and watches Marco with the same kind of concern Jean does. They expect he's about to decline most likely. Considering the trauma and the rehabilitation over the last few months, he's lucky he can find any grip in his arm at all. The therapy itself has been fine too, for both of them, but the drift itself was different. They all knew this.

Marco sighs and clears his throat. "Maybe we should," he offers with a nod, his voice as clear and as confident as he can make it with the two of them staring. "We're a little out of practice. If you're okay with it, Jean?" Marco watches Jean's face with keen interest, seeing how his words play out in eyebrow raises and small tenses of the lips. Jean doesn't look particularly pleased and the worry hits Marco hard.

It's a moment or two before Jean speaks, perhaps gathering his thoughts into a way that made sense to the both of them. Ymir remains uncharacteristically quiet to hear what he says over the buzzing surrounding them. "Yeah, we should." He bites his lips, considering Marco with a hint of sadness despite the smile that forms on his face. "I miss it."

Marco finds himself nodding. The odd familiarity of being in Jean's head has faded from his mind, but remnants of it still float in there from time to time. "Me too." It's hard to think that it's been months since they had that same kind of intimacy that they used to. Marco wonders if they'll ever have it back again.

Ymir snaps him from his thoughts with a slap on the back before she removes her arm to her side. Hands on her hips, she addresses them both, loudly, "Okay, you saps, I've got my beauty all prettied up for you, so you better go show her a good time. Or else." She never fails to threaten them at any chance she gets. Marco chalks it down as a form of affection for her.

"What do you think we're going to do, Ymir?" Jean asks, apparently grateful for the potential distraction. He throws a smile Marco's way and holds it with a tremor to his lips. Bashfully, he breaks away to gaze up in wonder again.

Sauntering to Jean's side, Ymir speaks gruffly, low and serious, but still loud enough for them both to hear. "You hurt her, do anything at all, and I will personally pilot one of these on my own to fling you into the sun."

Snorting in amusement, Marco shakes his head and states, "That's not possible."

Ymir narrows her eyes. She completely means what she says, as always. Marco can't expect any different after all this time. "They said that about a chimera jaeger but here we are." She gestures up at their jaeger before leaving them with a brusque salute and a swift walk.

Jean is the first to walk off towards the control room and Marco follows behind him. It takes them 10 minutes of silence through the loud clamour of the hangar, the rackety elevator ride, and several protocol rundowns before they're faced with their new suits. They're just like the old ones, black and metal and leather, with strips of silver lining across the joints.

"Are you sure we want to do this?" Marco asks as they're helped into their gear. Assisting hands work him into his suit and despite their attention to him, Marco can't look anywhere else but in Jean's eyes. He can't help but feel it was like this the last time. Marco, worried about Jean's silence, had watched as Jean lost himself to his thoughts, only to chase the rabbit in the drift. Marco never blamed him for that, but Jean seemed to have placed enough blame on himself for the both of them.

Concern passes over Jean's face before he answers, but he still manages to smile. "Yeah, I'm... scared, but I... need to know I can do this again.... with you." No one around them says a word. They become a blur in the nervous anticipation leading up to the drift. People pass them with muttered wishes of good luck and the regular safety protocols.

They reach Delta's cockpit and Marco begins to feel odd. This was the same cockpit where he was injured, where kaiju blue burned through his arm and scarred him. It feels strange to stand here next to Jean again, but he hopes they can make this work. They have so many times before that this should work. Marco has to believe that.

Strapping themselves in, Marco and Jean take to their old positions, staring forward as they let the moment wash over them. Marco waits for the familiar computerised voice to ring through their jaeger. It sounds within moments and Marco questions whether he's ready for this at all.

ENGAGE PILOT PROTOCOL

Petra's voice follows as usual through on the comms. "Good to see you boys back. Really." Hushed tones follow as Marshal Smith promptly tells her to remain professional. She clears her throat and speaks with a calmer tone, unable to hide the smile in her voice. "Prepare for the neural handshake. Starting in fifteen seconds."

It's strange to be in the jaeger and not move anywhere. There's a sense of stillness and an old feeling of imprisonment by just standing here, but this is how the safety protocols go. No leaving the hangar until a good neural handshake has been achieved. Marco hopes they'll be able to pull through after everything.

"Ten seconds." Petra continues to countdown each second in the background. Her voice resonates more as they stand in the large repair hanger. Marco can't help but wonder if Ymir is standing out there watching them.

Jean grabs his attention with a sudden look his way. His lips part uncertainly and form into a self-conscious smile. "Ready to get in my head, Marco?" Jean jokes shakily. He can look in Marco's eyes. Marco is thankful for that.

NEURAL HANDSHAKE INITIATED

They fall into the drift, feet still solid to the ground. Marco can feel the wave of Jean's guilt, embarrassment, and tense anxiety that sits in the back of his mind, now that Marco can read him. His mind is more focussed than last time and Marco can feel the way the memories pulse through them in time with their heartbeats. Nervous energy fills their minds as one. Pictures flash and flicker as they always have, mixing and melding just as their minds do.

Scenes of their childhoods begin. Jean's mother cooking in the kitchen brings the smell of warmth and home. She dusts her apron with her flour-covered hands and meets the outreached hand of young Jean. Smoke rises into the air as Marco blows out all of the candles of a birthday cake, the feeling of accomplishment filling him when his mother smiles down on him.

Jean's hand comes into view. Marco's view looks him up and down, tracing over Jean's shoulders and hips and finally resting on Jean's eyes. His hand is sweaty when Marco's hand takes it and they greet each other with pleasantries. Marco's nervousness at the attractive glint to Jean's smile prompts a laugh from the Jean beside him. He quickly clears his throat to let the drift continue on.

Images of the training room come into view. The smell of sweat rises up with the sound of the crowd. Jean fights with grunts and huffs against a new recruit. They circle around him and sweep the floor, knocking Jean to his feet. Laughter sounds from drift Marco's mouth, his hand covering to stifle the sound. Jean's glare finds Marco's face in the crowd immediately and his fingers points Marco out.

Blurs of faces pass through to the sound of whirring engines. It mixes with the view of shower tiles as water pours down over Jean's shoulders to the sound of sobs. The water circles the drain and swirls into the ocean. It rises in large waves, white water splashing up to the sky, surging and groaning at large metal feet.

Metal cracks and screams as the room shakes and the world shifts. Large bangs resound in the drift under the glow of bright blue claws. Marco's view turns to Jean, stagnant and unmoving, lost to the drift, and snaps to the view of sharp tail piercing through the hull. It switches to Jean's bleary view, panicked heartbeats keep slowing time. A surge runs through him. Embarrassment, guilt, and fear compound in flashes like lightning, thunder rumbling beneath them like the ocean might swallow them whole.

RIGHT HEMISPHERE CALIBRATING

Watching the images unfold, Marco awaits for the drift to end. His arms and legs move in their familiar motions, the alignment taking immediately.

LEFT HEMISPHERE CALIBRATING

Jean takes a moment before he moves, his arms sluggish and resisting the urge to move. Marco watches him struggle and sighs with relief when the alignment works. A glance to each other seals it and they move in sync with the refurbished jaeger, joined in mind again, moments played out between them.

Marco feels like he can smile again until a twinge of pain erupts down Marco's arm. He's outdone himself, pulled a muscle, moved sooner than his physio would allow. It stings and burns, flesh seeming to tear. Blue glows in the fissures of warped skin. Like tar it runs down his arm, steam rising from it as it burns.

RIGHT HEMISPHERE OUT OF ALIGNMENT

A scream erupts through Marco as the spiked tail appears above him once more. Kaiju blue coats him from cheek to finger tip. His face seems to melt, running down his bones like candle wax. Jean's voice calls from beyond his view, but it's faint beneath the constant clang of metal and the ripping screeching sound above.

"Marco!" Jean's voice grows louder, but Marco still has Skorpios to fight. He still has to keep Jean safe, fight until he can't fight any more, even it means he lose the arm or half his face. He struggles, every ounce of him aching and fighting to breathe, air cold in his throat. It all stings.

Jean yells louder, breaking through the screeching of metal, "Marco! It's not real! It's not real! You're safe." He repeats it over and over until Marco blinks and stares at his arm. It’s wrapped within a jaeger suit. The blue has gone. The sounds of the jaeger fade to the sounds of Jean yelling, Petra's worried hums on the comms, and Marco's own heavy breathing.

"Marco, sweetie," Petra calls out, worried and clearly stressed. In the background Marco can hear the sounds of the control room mumbling amongst themselves. "You with us?" The comms click off and all Marco can hear is the hum of Chimera Delta.

Searching around him, he realises where he is, what he might have done. He snaps his head in all directions and to his relief finds no damage has been taken out on the hangar. No one's been hurt. Though his arm still stings.

Jean to his left looks besides himself with fear, worry, whatever expression had taken over his face. His eyebrows seemed to have formed deep grooves in his forehead. His mouths gapes, a glassy sheen taking to his eyes. He undoes himself, takes off his helmet, and makes his way over to help Marco do the same. Their helmets drop forgotten to the floor.

"J-Jean..." Marco manages and grabs for Jean's hand as soon as he's free. "I-I'm sorry. I don't know what happened. I just..." His voice breaks, a sob taking over his chest, breaking free from the tightness that wrapped its way around it.

Before he can say another word, Jean pulls him close and works his arms around him. "Shhh. You're safe." One hand runs through his hair, drawing Marco's face against his shoulder, while the other rubs circles on his lower back.

"I c-couldn't s-stop it," Marco begins to stutter, voice deteriorating into sobs and sharp breaths. "It was happening all over again and I--"

Jean cuts him short, "It's my fault." He squeezes Marco closer, trembling a little as he takes in a deep breath.

Marco pushes him away, hands grabbing onto his shoulders. The suit feels cold beneath his fingers. "What? No, you..." His voice fades away at the look in Jean's eyes.

"I can only imagine how terrified you felt when I was just gone like that." Jean bites his lip. Marco can feel the guilt in his shoulders, even see it in his eyes, and wonders just how much it's been eating away at him. "Seeing you disappear into the drift... and then that scream..."

Marco's good hand grips Jean's shoulder tighter. His head tilts and he can feel his face change to an expression of worry, the scarred skin across his cheek drawing tight with a smile. "Sorry." Perhaps it is better they don't drift. Neither of them seem to be able to keep themselves together longer enough, or when it counts. The feeling of failure overwhelms Marco but he smiles, as best he can when he meets Jean's eye. "I think it's best we stick to training."

Seemingly disappointed, Jean nodded in agreement. If Marco wasn't able to drift anymore, then that was that. Unless Jean found someone else to drift with. Marco wouldn't blame him if he did. Jean lived for the thrill of being a jaeger pilot. On the first day Marco had seen him, he had been knocked down to the ground and challenged Marco for laughing, just to prove he was capable. That had been the beginning of it all.

Without pilots Chimera Delta sits in the hangar for weeks, waiting for her moment to shine. Jean takes it upon himself to train with Marco every morning, without fail, even when Marco resists. He speaks words of praises, smiling with more effort than he had after the incident, and blissfully less weighed down by his guilt.

Marco's arm grows stronger with every day. The pain becomes little more than a dull ache when he overextends himself. He no longer needs to grit his teeth or worry what may bring the searing feeling back again. His sleep feels more peaceful, nights passing easier now that he can sleep how he pleases. Lying by Jean's side he knows that under sheets they are the safest they'll ever be in a world full of monsters.

The sirens wake them before dawn. Rumbling shakes the base as jaegers are sent out for new threats. Marco has to remind himself that once again he does not need to wake.

The door to their quarters rattles, a heavy clanging against it, calling for their attention. Jean gets to his feet first and makes his way to the door in only his shorts. He doesn't feel the cold chill in the room. He never has.

"Do you know what time it is?" Jean asks with a roll of his eyes, brushing his bed-hair off his forehead. "This isn't part of evacuation protocol." He pulls a face and glances to Marco, who sits up on the bed and tries to peer at their guest.

"This is highly unorthodox, I understand," Marshal Smith answers with his flat tone. Marco can just see the hint of his arms crossed from where he sits. "But I am in need of two jaeger pilots and you are all I have."

Jean scoffs and throws his arm out, pointing Marco's way. "We tried your suggestion and look what happened." His groggy voice squeaked as his frustration leaked out of him.

"Jean," Marco warns, knowing that arguing with his superior was the last thing Jean should be doing at this hour of the morning, especially if there is an emergency. He gains Jean's attention and puts on a smile. "As I understand, Commander, you need us?"

"Correct." Marshal Smith is not a man of many words. He never would be. "I expect you ready to launch within the hour." Not open to arguments, he leaves with heavy steps, turning his back before Jean could utter one more word of complaint.

Jean slams the door with a flick of his wrist. "You can't seriously believe this will work." Unable to stop himself from moving, he paces around the room, rubbing at his cheek, his hair, his arms.

"What other choice do we have?" Marco asks, believing every word. If they were desperate enough to call on them, two jaeger pilots that have been out of commission for months, who had shown two recent failures to achieve a successful neural handshake, then it has to be bad. Marco has no doubts about that.

The gaze they exchange seems to last longer than Marco ever knew them to stare at one another. Jean changes from confusion to worry to anger to doubt and all back through them again. Beneath it all, he wants so desperately to be back in that jaeger, to know the feel of that power in their hands. Marco knows that feeling too, and there's an intimacy to the drift that neither of them can deny they want back.

In silent agreement, they dress themselves and make their way to Chimera Delta. She waits for them, groaning as the base shakes. Despite their last disaster, she still feels like home to Marco, even if he feels apprehensive of yet another failed neural handshake.

"You all set boys?" Petra asks through the comms. Less chipper than their last attempt, she manages a straight tone. There's no smile to hear this time.

"We will be soon," Jean answers and immediately turns to Marco. "Try the left."

Marco stares, mouth agape and questioning whether Jean was truly awake enough for this. They can hardly afford to change things because Jean sees fit. Ever since they had become partners, Marco had always been on the right. It seems odd to change all of that now.

Jean repeats himself before Marco can object. "Try the left. Think of it as a change of scenery." He strolls to the right side and straps himself in. He's pushing himself to do this, following along with Marco's decision to be here. His teeth grind in worry.

"But it's different..." Marco straps himself in with slow movements. Doubt sits heavily in his chest but now is not the time to worry. The drift is familiar, their jaeger is familiar, and Marco knows Jean better than anyone else. Peering over, Jean smiles, finding confidence and sharing it in their swapped positions. Both of them knew this would be all hope and all luck.

Petra's sweet voice comes through on the comms. "You know the drill. Prepare for the neural handshake. 15 seconds."

She continues to countdown as she always does. Petra has a way of making Marco feel at ease. The softness she carries comes through with every word she speaks. He closes his eyes to listen to her until the drift takes hold.

NEURAL HANDSHAKE INITIATED

The drift melds their minds with the laughter of children. Marco tries his best to do a cartwheel on the grass but he tumbles and falls each time. The other children in the playground run around him as ribbons of colour, circling until the images change to Jean's bicycle. With wobbly wheels, it trundles down the street, clacking away at every turn down the long hill.

The bitumen road becomes a mantelpiece behind a sofa, Jean's parents sitting patiently with their hands in their laps and patient looks on their faces. Jean confesses words he's been meaning to say for a long time through the loud beating of his heart. Their smiles break down his nerves, his vision blurring as tears fill his eyes.

Marco's arm begins to burn, but they both feel it now, a memory both of them now share. White fills their minds with the beep of a heart monitor, blurring between Jean's visits and sleep. Perfect moments of quiet peace take hold with the feeling of what it is like to lie in each other's arms.

RIGHT HEMISPHERE CALIBRATING

Jean readies himself in his new position. His limbs stretch out and his head turns, surveying his new vantage point, understanding the lay of the jaeger from his new side.

LEFT HEMISPHERE CALIBRATING

Together, in sync, Marco and Jean move with the ease they remember. The same few steps, the same tilts in the machinery, and the same steady gait of a machine built to fight monsters. It feels good to be back where they are meant to be, together.

CALIBRATION COMPLETED

Chimera Delta hits the shallow water with a great reeling shudder. The impact jolts them both and brings with it the swift realisation that they’re truly ready for battle. Water splashes up past the cockpit and rains back down, tapping across the metal in heavy drops. The city skyline glows on the horizon. It's the closest they've been to base in months.

Jean presses the comms button with a sigh. "Update us, Petra. We can't go into his cold." He turns Marco's way, grinning in that stupid way he does when he's trying to be clever. As much as it can annoy Marco, he can't deny it's not attractive.

"Why did you need us?" Marco asks a second later. There are plenty of other more capable jaeger pilots. They have to be desperate if they need Marco, malfunctioning arm and all.

Petra's voice comes through the comms. She sounds stressed, voice higher than normal. "Harlequin have their hands full and Leviathan are out on another mission. Short of putting Umber Valiant back into commission, you're our only pilots left." A sigh punctuates her words and the comms go silent.

Chatter crackles through their headsets. Serious words are exchanged behind her, coordinating three jaegers out in the field at once. She clears her throat, signalling her return. "This one's called Cerberus."

Jean rolls his eyes and scoffs. "I can only guess why." His nods signals their movement forward, step after step, sloshing through the water and fighting with the tide. The sun's light starts to show above the horizon, glistening around the peaks of waters below them.

Marco can feel his stomach flipping at the thought of another fight. He watches the way Jean clenches his jaw and breathes in anticipation. Jean has always been prepared for anything. That is, until Marco messed it all up by giving into one night's desires. If what Marco sees is true, Jean's back to his old self. He's perhaps more cautious, but he seems to be as determined as he always was.

"You're approaching its signature," Petra informs over the comms with a tremble in her voice and clicks it off to surround them with Delta's mechanical humming. Petra seems to be concerned about their first mission and Marco can't say he expected any different. He knows the feeling well.

They can see the creature approaching them without the need for the signature. In the shallow water, it rises above the ocean with hunching shoulders, stalking towards them on all fours. Marco had thought he had seen everything but this kaiju is something else. It appears like a dog, bulky and muscled like a rottweiler, but where a dog would have one head, it has three.

It launches forward, odd finned paws clawing at the water to give itself speed. Where fur may have lined its body on a normal dog, it’s covered with shiny skin like wrinkled rubber, like an eel's skin. Its growl carries across the water as it runs, coming up on them in leaps and bounds, all three heads snapping at the air.

As it draws near its jaws open wide in horrifying smiles, long needle-like teeth filling its mouths like a creature that dwells in the darkest depths of the ocean. The teeth claw outwards into the air like the jaw of an anglerfish, unable to fit in any of its mouths, as if trying to reach them sooner. Where its ears would be are bony spines that break through the skin, fanning out and running down its back. Glowing dots line each side and move in the bright blue streaks as it runs.

"That is the ugliest thing I have ever seen," Marco blurts out, swallowing the taste of bile that taints his tongue. His only reprieve is that he knows he'll take more efforts to see it killed, so he does not need to ever see it again.

Jean hums in agreement. They both move into a defensive stance, digging one of the jaeger's feet behind and preparing it for impact. "Do you see its eyes? All six of the disgusting things."

Marco hadn't been able to make them out before now, but when the creature nears, jaws still snapping, he can see what Jean means. Its six eyes, staring out blankly at the world, looked like perfect round, soft, and googly spheres. Eyeballs glowing white in the early morning, the creature appears blind, and Marco hopes in the seconds before its impact that it is.

Cerberus crashes in Chimera Delta with a roar. The jaeger groans, resisting the beast as its feet dig into the sand beneath the waves. Water splashes up into the air, catching glimpses of light before they fall to create ripples in the ocean. The kaiju’s teeth scratch down along the newly reinforced body, tearing away spirals of metal.

Marco grunts and they take the first blow together with a throw of the left fist. It collides with Cerberus' rightmost head, smashing through its teeth and wedging the arm into its jaw. The beast clamps down around the metal. "That's the right one occupied."

"We're going to need that arm soon enough," Jean responds and nods towards the beast's leftmost head. No sooner than Jean had given his direction, they throw their weight into another punch, fist slamming into its eyes. Unable to blink, the creatures roars in pain, its eyes wobbling from the shock. Its rightmost jaw releases the jaeger's arm and it stumbles to its side, heads trying to shake away the pain.

Grinning from ear to ear and finally letting the rush of the fight take to his veins, Marco laughs loudly, "We've got this. Right, Jean?"

The creature circles around itself, wobbling on its feet with its awkward balance. A loud growl sends ripples through the water, breaking waves as they peak. Cerberus lunges forward, all heads biting at the air. It runs into Delta's chest; its centre head collides just below the cockpit. Its teeth grind against the metal, unable to pierce the reconstructed armour. Marco blesses Ymir's ingenuity in the back of his mind. She's made enough alterations to see them through, if only they can keep up the fight.

"Take this, you son of a bitch!" Jean screams, voice hoarse and growling. The jaeger responds to their synced movements, bringing both arms in to catch its head between both fists. The creature snarls and its secondary heads bite at the metal. The rightmost fails, jaws too broken to work, but the leftmost breaks off a piece of the arm and swallows it whole.

Marco huffs through his nose. "Fuck. What now?" He wants to scream at the horror before him. They've taken out the teeth of one head and maybe the sight of another. The third, the centre head, growls in pain, reeling back as its eyes glow a faint orange from the rising sun.

Jean grins, no doubt feeling the thrill of working together again. There's an ease to the way he takes to fighting where Marco worries and grinds his teeth. Without an answer, Jean leads them into another punch to smack away the closest two heads. A mighty crack resonates through the jaeger, one of bone and not of metal, and Marco thanks Jean for being there with him.

Jean reaches above him to press a series of buttons Marco has never seen before. They appear to be retrofitted during Delta's reconstruction. "Ymir added these beauties. She won't be lacking in weapons now." The jaeger groans with mechanical precision, click after click sounds through the metal. Before them, Marco can see the sides of Delta's arms separate to reveal the gleam of sharpened metal blades running down them. "Let's cut this bitch down!"

Delta presses forward, its entire weight leaning towards the creature, step by step pushing against the sand to gain traction. One arm punches and slices down the neck of one head. Blue glowing blood oozes from the wound and disappears into the sea. The rightmost head lunges for the left arm, slicing itself along the blade. Its rip it free, forcing the blade down its body and more blue blood to flow.

An uppercut to the centre head sends the creature reeling. It yelps in a twisted garbled sound, torturous to the ears. It would not take much more to take it down. Marco wants to be the one to do it. "Let me blast it!" He exchanges a glance with Jean, knowing he can feel as he does and knowing just as swiftly that Jean will stand beside him.

Together they hold up the jaeger's right arm, blade forward and ready, and pull back the other to charge the plasma cannon. The creature before them gathers to its feet, snarling and snapping. Its wounds are no deterrent and its heads lower to ready itself for another blow. Its faces are lit by the glow of its dots, the peeking light of the sun, and by the warming of their plasma cannon.

The cannon spins, glowing and whirring with increasing speed to a high-pitched buzz. "We going to do this?" Marco asks, heart pounding at the sight of the creature getting to its feet again. All three heads, all six eyes, seem to bore into his soul.

Blinding white shoots forth and cuts through Cerberus' chest and out its side. "We're going to do this," Jean echoes when Delta collides with the kaiju's heads. A gut-wrenching sound follows. Its body slides down against Delta's metal, blue streaks of glowing blood in its wake.

The victory feels too soon for Marco. It all feels far too easy. He pushes the jaeger to take one more blow, thrusting the new blades down into its heads. A slick wet sound followed by ocean waves lets him know the job is done for sure. He can rest easy.

The comms spur into life. "I knew you boys had it in you," Petra chirps, brimming with pride. "Make your way back as soon as you're ready."

Jean reaches up for the comms button and smiles Marco's way. "We might take our time if that's okay with you?" He relaxes in his place and removes his helmet. It falls to the floor with a bang.

A chuckle answers him and Petra leans close to the mic to whisper, "I'll tell them you're taking longer than expected." The comms click off before Marco can have his own word to her.

Jean undoes his straps, pulling himself free of the machine and watches Marco follow his lead. With a few steps, he faces the ocean, orange light falling across the great expanse of ocean before them. It touches the peaks of the waves as they rise up and fall.

Marco joins him in silence. Through the shell of their metal protector, they can feel the waves rock against its form. Marco wonders if he might have ever seen something so beautiful, until Jean takes his hand and casts a glance his way. A laugh bursts through his smile and he knows immediately that he's been corrected.

Jean brings Marco's scarred hand to his lips and leaves a kiss across the tortured flesh. The relief that Jean doesn't hate him or judge him for anything he's done frees him from the tightness in his chest. Marco's squeezes back, hoping the guilt that lay in Jean has gone, and finds himself happy to see none of it in Jean's eyes.

It’s the moments after the drift, a successful drift, where they feel the closest. Minds once melded still feel connected, still one, still together, despite the disconnection from the machine. Marco feels the peace of it and the comfort of knowing that he’s safe with his hand in Jean’s, knowing they’re both feeling the same. He finds happiness in the confirmation that the nervous flutter in his stomach is not his alone but is one they share. Marco smiles to himself at that thought.

Chimera Delta has made it through another battle, scratched up and battered as always but still standing. Jean and Marco are still standing too, hand in hand. While Marco’s arm may not quite work right, it can still squeeze Jean’s hand, feel the warmth of his skin, and if he pushes himself, he can fight as well as the rest of them. Luck willing, he’ll never let his arm stand in the way of doing what they do best, together.

Light streams through the glass of the cockpit and warms their skin. In silence they watch the ocean and the sky, tinted orange by the rising sun. The horizon lies before them, full of possibilities and challenges to overcome. Bright and shining, another dawn has come and they stand together, side by side.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this and want to share it on Tumblr, you can find the Tumblr post [here](https://foxberryblue.tumblr.com/post/146016863122/chimera-delta-chapter-3).
> 
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